


Family

by Shipper_on_deck



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Christmas gift, First Kiss, First Meetings, Fluff, M/M, We've roleplayed it for so long i really do ship it now, honestly its more family than shipping, please don't question the ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-04
Updated: 2018-12-04
Packaged: 2019-09-06 07:38:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16828117
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shipper_on_deck/pseuds/Shipper_on_deck
Summary: Race looks back on his life, and how he ended up with his patchwork, mismatched family.A Christmas gift for the little shit who turned Albert into a full character for me, and made me ship him with a Delancey( I love you but please stop sending me angst.)





	Family

Looking around at the ever chaotic lodging house on Christmas eve, Race really couldn't help but laugh. between the littlest newsies hyped up on adrenaline and excitement, even knowing they'd get next to nothing the next morning (never _completely_ nothing. The older newsies would happily go without to see the smiles on the kids faces opening some home made doll or old, almost broken, second hand toy on Christmas morning.) and the older, already drunk newsies laughing and starting small bubbles of drinking games to justify getting ever drunker. "Hey Racer, y' fuckin' off int' y' own head again, huh?" Albert laughed, dropping down beside him. The boy was already clearly drunk, and Race couldn't help but grin as he rolled his eyes at his best friend.

_When Race had his first Christmas as a newsie when he was seven, scared and alone without knowing a word of the language everyone around him was speaking, he'd never felt more lost in his life. He felt invisible, **wanted** to be invisible, trying to stay out of the way of the other, loud and laughing boys who'd known each other for years, feeling more lost and alone in a room full of people than he'd ever felt by himself. He wanted his family, but it was all too clear to him that he’d never have them back again, the flu that had killed his mother had come back and taken his father just barely a year later. For the first time in his life, Antonio Higgins had absolutely nobody. When one of the boys came over to talk to him, he curled further into himself, not knowing how to talk to him. To his amazement though, the boy, who couldn't have been any older than he was, didn't seem all that fazed when Race cut him off half way through what he assumed was an introduction, murmuring a quiet, shaken, almost painfully shy "N-non parlo i-inglese". He may not have looked fazed, but he did stop talking, hesitating for just a moment, before smiling, pointing at himself and happily saying "Albert. Albert DaSilva." he held a hand out to race, and the tiny, anxious blonde had reached out and shaken his hand, murmuring "Antonio Higgins." as he did_

looking back years later, Albert constantly teased the blonde that he was nothing like his introduction, and race had to agree. Albert had pushed him slowly out of his shell, until the shy little blonde kid, stammering his way through his own name, felt like a different person to who he was now. The loud, confident flirt who'd taught every newsie under nine how to play poker, and taught more than half of them every Italian swear he knew. "Only a little" race smiled, shaking his head. "Already broke free of y' boyfriend, huh?" he chuckled, glancing over to where he could see Morris (who tended to stay sober at these nights, _someone_ had to keep an eye on his drunken idiot of a boyfriend). looking for said drunken idiot boyfriend.

" 's fine! last time i looked, he was talkin' t' Jack!" Albert laughed, throwing an arm around Race's shoulders, and making the blonde shake his head with the aching, brotherly kind of fondness that he reserved just for Albert, though he ended up thinking again even as he did.

_He'd been a little older the first time he'd really spoken to Jack. Albert's slow, patent lessons meant he could string enough of a sentence together to play up the poor, young, immigrant kid just enough to tug heart strings and sell his papers... most of the time at least. Today wasn't one of those times. He was nine, having barely sold enough to afford his bed for the night, and nowhere near enough for food. he'd curled up in bed, shaking from the cold winter weather, soaked through from the torrential downpour, missing his best friend desperately (Albert had offered to help Medda help clean up after a show instead of selling, she always payed them enough for food and board, no matter who was helping out. Race had been so sure he'd be able to sell through it. He'd been **so** wrong. When he heard the voice of another boy, an older voice, talking to him. "Hey, y' eaten yet today kid?" he'd asked, and Race had rubbed his eyes, shaking his head, watching as this older boy had frowned, breaking the small loaf of bread he had in his hands in half, passing it to the boy. "f-f' me?" he managed shakily, and the other boy had nodded. "yeah course.. Ise already eaten today anyhow." he'd shrugged, grinning "Jack Kelly, What's y' name kid?" Race had managed a small smile then, taking a break from eagerly devouring the bread, "Antonio Higgins" he'd grinned, and Jack had nodded. "Oh! y' that Italian kid that sells up by Sheepshead" he smiled "name's kinda a mouthful... i'm just gonna call y' racetrack." he'd laughed, ruffling Race's hair and making the boy smile all the more. It was the first time anyone had called him that, and just like with Albert, Race couldn't help but trust Jack from the very start._

At the time, Jack had seemed so much older and stronger, but really, he'd been just three years older than him and already fiercely protective of anyone younger than him. It had been a bad day for all of them, a bad headline and heavy rain made for awful selling, and he knew looking back that Jack must have been as broke as the rest of them. He'd never admit it, even then, Jack always had been the first to give something up to help someone else out. (something Davey told him off for often, with a smile that was equal parts loving and exasperated.) The nickname had, clearly, stuck, and now he could count on one hand the people he let call him Antonio, or even tony. he looked up again when he heard Jack give an excited cheer as he realised Davey must have finally turned up. Granted he'd met Davey a hell of a lot later than everyone else, but dammit, he was still family!

_It had been about a month after the strike when Race had found Davey, his back pressed against the wall of the dark alleyway, tears in his eyes, sucking the life from the last dregs of a cigarette. "Dave?" Race had asked, frowning as he moved to sit beside the other boy. "Y' don't smoke unless somethin's really gotten under y' skin. The hell happened?" Davey had just smiled weakly, rubbing his eyes and blowing out one, last whisper of smoke, before stubbing the cigarette out. "It ain't important Race, y' don't gotta worry 'bout me." he sighed softly, shaking his head, and race had just shrugged. "Try me. I've done enough dumb shit that I can't judge nobody for nothin'." He promised with a smile, and Davey had managed a weak smile._

_"Y' ever been in love with someone Race? like, so in love y' can't be around them without blushin'-" Davey had started, and race had cut him off quickly_

_"Y' do realise Jack's in love with y' too, right?" he'd laughed, the look of hopeful disbelief on Davey's face only making everything funnier. "God Dave, how did y' not know! He's **smitten** with y'! An' honestly, I'm sick of y' both pinin', so listen t' me for once an' **tell him**."_

They'd laughed it off at the time, but Davey had trusted him enough to listen, and honestly it had worked out pretty well, considering Jack now had his arm around his boyfriend, the two of them leaning together almost on habit. it was sweet... really sweet. Davey was always the mom of the group (a nickname he hated just a little more than mouth), but he tended to forget he could come to them when he needed it too. He watched the couple with a small smile for a moment longer, before he felt a familiar arm wrap around him, leaning into him without thinking.

_this was the biggest the Manhattan's Christmas party had ever gotten. Between the usual boys, the younger ones who'd made friends in other boroughs and begged until the olders caved and let them come, and the leaders and second-in-commands that had begrudgingly been invited, it was chaos. Race loved it, every second. He’d been talking animatedly to Albert and Morris (the latest, admittedly heditatant audition to their weird patchwork family, but Albert **loved** him, and Race had to admit, he was warming up to him) when he’d first heard Spot calling out to him, making him smile all the wider as he turned to look at him. Race and Spot had formed a friendship (that was all, he thought miserably) after the strike, and it had been Race’s puppy eyes and begging that had gotten Spot to even come to the party, and he excused himself from his conversation with his best friend quickly, heading over to the other boy and hugging him tight. “Y’ came! Thought parties weren’t y’ thing!”_

_”they ain’t” Spot had shrugged, and looking back, The ‘but you are’ had been unspoken but very clearly there as he hugged Race back, looking like he wanted to say something, until they both heard Jack calling out._

_”hey, Gremlin, look up!” He’d smirked, and Spot had rolled his eyes and looked up, before freezing_

_the mistletoe. They were **right** under the mistletoe._

_spot had looked again like he was going to say something, move away, but Race was still in his arms for the moment, and buzzed from the alcohol (a much appreciated gift from Jacobi) and somewhere in his drunken fog, he’d decided that kissing Spot sounded fucking perfect, so that’s exactly what he did._

_for a moment, spot froze, and race had gone to move away, suddenly stone cold sober, but then the arms around him had tightened, one hand tugging gently at his hair as the kiss deepened, leaving them both breathless and panting._

_”merry Christmas, Spot.” He’d Murmured, and spot had beamed back at him, murmuring “merry Christmas baby.” Back to him._

That had been their first kiss, but it had been far from their last. He smiled slightly at the memory. “Still not y’ thing, huh?” He teased, leaning into his boyfriend’s arms, his smile widening when he heard Spot chuckle softly.

”don’t think it ever will be, but y’ know I can’t say no t’ y’ damn puppy eyes.” He teased, pressing a kiss to Race’s lips.

ten years ago tonight, Race had been curled up and alone in the corner of a room filled with people he’d never met who yelled in a language he didn’t know.

now, he was curled up in his boyfriend watching his family yelling out swears he’d never heard at the loss of a card game, or cheering encouragement at a drinking game or a victory.

Maybe Antonio didn’t have a family anymore, but Racetrack did.


End file.
